


The Cure

by Anthracene



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abduction, Anal Sex, Begging, Brainwashing, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Conditioning, Dehumanization, Humiliation, Hypnosis, Hypnotism, M/M, Manipulation, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Mind Break, Mind Control, Multi, Objectification, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rape, Sexual Slavery, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-07-04 02:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anthracene/pseuds/Anthracene
Summary: Francis tries hypnosis therapy as a last-ditch attempt to treat his migraines.It works out much better than he ever expected.





	1. The First Session

**Author's Note:**

> Hypnosis in general is just a giant turn-on for me, and I typically don't see a lot of them so I took it upon myself to write my own. I understand that it may not be for everyone, but to each their own. Hope you enjoy reading! Comments are lovely :)

“Well hello there, young man. My name is Dr. Cameron Jones; please, take a seat wherever you'd like.”

 

Sitting across from Francis was a tall gentleman in his mid thirties—the man he could only assume was the sole owner of this odd practice. Despite his apparent age, the man in question carried with him an air of maturity. Francis couldn't help but notice it with the large swaths of white and grey streaking through his cropped, salt-and-pepper hair. It stood out all on its own, seemingly out of place on the head of someone who could be no older than his father, yet at the same time complimented the man's other prominent features very nicely—tying well together with his chiseled jaw, the thin-rimmed glasses that framed his angular face, and the warm brown eyes behind them. If Francis wasn’t there for a more pressing matter right at the moment, the boy would have had to admit that he was a little on the attractive side—even despite him being nearly twice his age. 

 

This was... definitely not the type of man he had imagined would be here behind these doors. 

 

More intriguing than his looks however was this man's unique  _voice:_ clear, and thick, and syrupy; something akin to the purest of honey. There was almost an  _inhuman_  quality to it, with how unnaturally calm and soothing it was on the ears— as if the doctor's simple greeting in this voice had been enough to put most of his worries to rest despite himself.

 

It was all just a little unsettling, to say the least.

 

No matter how calming a voice the doctor might have, Francis still couldn't help but question. After all, what was a man like Dr. Jones doing here? Was he even a real "doctor"? More importantly, what was _Francis himself_  doing here? What did he possibly hope to achieve, stepping foot into an office smack dab in the sketchy part of town?

 

“What can I do for you today?”

 

Francis would have never even noticed this place if it weren’t for an old acquaintance who had recommended it to him recently. It had been such a weird meeting, too—he hadn't seen her in ages, but he could almost swear she had this glazed, far-out look in her eyes as she rambled about this new, unconventional form of therapy that's been helping her recently. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought she was high or something, what with the strange look in her eyes and the floaty way she spoke. Francis did try to give her the benefit of the doubt, but all of it had only left him feeling a bit weirded out in the end. He was still inexplicably left with several pressing questions when she suddenly declared that she had to go, choosing to leave those questions unanswered in favor of giving him the address to such a cryptic place. When was the last time he had seen her before that, anyways? Was it in junior high; had it really been that long? If he really thought about it, Francis couldn't even recall that.

 

The entire thing had just been so... weird. Surreal— _forced_ , even—and definitely out-of-place.  

 

 

... Not that any of that should really matter to him now, now that he's here sitting comfortably across this "doctor" in said cryptic place. Choice was a luxury, and one that he was running out of  _fast_. There was simply no room left to be fussy anymore—Francis had pursued almost every treatment there was on the book, and as the years went by there were only less and less left for him to try as his condition only grew worse and worse. 

 

 _What was one more less-than-trustworthy treatment to cross off the list, anyway?_  

 

Francis would gladly give anything for the chance to live life without having to suffer from the constant, familiar pain in the side of his head. It’s already gone and ruined so many different aspects of his life—all physical pain aside—that he's at a loss for what to do. His own parents had given up on "fixing" him long ago, claiming that he was simply "making up" such a ridiculous illness and leaving him to suffer through it himself. The crippling pain makes it almost impossible for him to hold down any type of full-time job. He's lost most of whatever friends he used to have by now. And, to top it all off, he feels he'd lose his mind soon enough too, if he has to continue to bear these migraines for any longer. 

 

Sitting here, he can't help but wonder if he might already have. 

 

“Nervous, are we?” Dr. Jones smiled patiently, noticing Francis’ silence. “There's no need to be shy now. I don't bite, I promise.” 

 

“...Oh!" Francis cleared his throat. His cheeks flushed a pale pink color, clearly embarrassed at having ignored the man for so long being lost in his own thoughts. “Gosh, I'm so sorry Dr. Jones. You were asking me a question, weren’t you? I must’ve spaced out again.”

 

“No worries here; I'm sure it happens to the best of us. Our sessions last an hour and a half, but feel free to take your time and go at your own pace. Now..." The man procured a legal pad from on top of his filing cabinet, and clicked a pen he retrieved from his pocket. "Why don’t you start us off with a name first?”

 

“Ah, uhm... right," the boy started off, straightening himself up. "I’m Francis. I’m here because... I've had these really awful migraines for as long as I can remember. I’ve tried every over-the-counter there is, almost every therapy out there..." his voice started to quiet with the last few words, as if the harsh reality of the situation was finally dawning on him just by admitting it out loud. He looked up slowly, desperation clearly written in every line on his face. "None of them's actually  _worked_ for me, doctor."

 

“I'm... almost out of options now, at this point. I mean, I've just heard from a friend recently that something like this can work wonders even for physical pain. I'm willing to try anything once, so... if it has any chance of helping me, _any_ chance at all...” Francis took a deep breath as he continued to nervously wring his hands. For what it was worth, it is more than a little nerve-wracking signing up for something so... _unreal_ —more than Francis himself really cared to admit. 

 

"... then you have my permission to do whatever it takes, Dr. Jones."

 

Dr. Jones nodded with a gentle smile. Maybe he's long used to dealing with uneasy patients, or maybe it's just due to his own natural charm, but Francis finds himself a little grateful for his patience and understanding regardless the reason.

 

“I see. Thank you for all of that, Francis. I can only imagine how difficult it might be for you, working and carrying out day-to-day activities with migraines that severe. Don’t you worry though; my job here is to fix exactly that, so that you can come out of here healthy and happy once all of this is over." The doctor scratched a few things onto his legal pad before looking up to meet his gaze.  

 

“Now... are you ready to start, Francis?”

 

“Wait,” the boy exclaimed, sheepishly shaking his head. “Just a sec, doctor. I just have a few... questions about all of this, before we start—if that’s okay?”

 

“Why, of course! I would never want to do anything my patient is not comfortable with. Please, ask away.”

 

Wringing his clammy hands together, Francis asked the first question he’d been worrying about this entire time.

 

“Well... I mean... Is this really...  _real_?”

 

Francis knew well enough how rude he must've sounded then and there—coming to the man's practice only to bother him with a question discrediting the validity of his practice. But rude or not, he needed to know straight from the doctor's mouth what exactly he was getting himself into before plunging in with such a decision.

 

“Of course! I’m sure you may have your own preconceptions of what hypnosis therapy may be like, but I can assure you it is very much an effective treatment option, especially for cases in which all other treatments have failed before. Many patients report feeling nearly—if not entirely—cured of their respective ailments after just two to four sessions here. I’m sure your friend may have been one of them, if they had recommended you come here.”

 

Francis nodded thoughtfully. _That... made sense._ Why else had he come here if he hadn’t already heard of someone who was happy with this treatment? And it was an old friend of his, no less—someone a little more trustworthy than, say, a downright stranger. He couldn’t find a good reason to refute the doctor's claim.

 

But then, another thought wormed its way into his head just as soon as the first one had left. Before he even realized it, Francis already found himself voicing that one out as well.

 

“No, no—proper hypnosis is nothing like that at all,” Dr. Jones replied matter-of-factly. “It is an unfortunate fact of reality that Hollywood has long distorted the public's perception of these things, but really that can't be further from the truth. Hypnosis therapy won't work at all if there is no initial desire within yourself for the suggestions I give. For example: I can try to give a smoker suggestions to help them quit all I want—if that smoker has no intrinsic desire to quit however, it simply won't take.

 

“I can assure you; you're in good hands, Francis. They are just suggestions, after all: suggestions that your mind chooses to take up based on your own internal desires. There is nothing I can do with hypnosis that won't work to your benefit. I'll even make this first session on the house, just to show you that you have nothing to worry about here.”

 

Listening to Dr. Jones explain it himself admittedly does convince Francis of its safety, though he dimly feels that his unnaturally calming voice may have played a large part of it. Still, compared to the numerous side effects of the other treatments he’s tried, this doesn’t seem to come with any negative side effects at all. While he prays that it works out like it had for his friend, Francis is relieved that—at the very least—nothing worse will come out of this experience even if it doesn’t work for him. And the best part is that this first session is free—if it doesn't work, he doesn't have to worry about deciding between paying for another failed treatment and paying for rent this month.

 

Smiling, Francis thanks the doctor for being so patient, and finally agrees to start with the therapy. 

 

...

 

“Alright, Francis. I want you to lean back— _ease in slowly now_ —and just relax yourself. Just relax onto the nice, comfy chair, and listen to my voice. Listen to the sound of my voice, and let each muscle in your body slowly let go of their tension, until you feel them all sinking back into the soft cushions.

 

“Are you lying back on the chair now? Are you comfortable?”

 

The boy nodded, stretching his limbs out slowly and yawning. 

 

“ _Wonderful_ ; you’re doing great so far, Francis...” 

 

“I want you to take a deep breath. _Inhale_ —then exhale nice and slow. Breathe in... breathe out, just like that. As you control your breathing, I want you to slowly close your eyes for me. With every inhale, I want you to feel your eyelids slowly lowering, slowly getting heavier. With every exhale, I want you feel how relaxed you're getting on this nice, comfy chair, as you feel a little more lighter and sleepier. Breathe in, eyelids growing heavy; breathe out, light and sleepy.

 

“How do you feel, Francis?”

 

“Mmm... better, much... better...” Francis mumbled groggily, feeling too comfortable on the reclining chair to even move his lips right to speak properly. Every muscle in his body felt the gravitational pull of the soft reclining chair and he felt he could not do anything but sink into such a welcoming feeling.

 

“Good, good. _That’s wonderful_. I’m so glad to hear that you’re feeling so good—so comfortable—so _sleepy_ right now. In a moment, I'm going to countdown from ten; with each passing number, you’re going to become even sleepier until you feel it so hard to think about anything anymore that you fall into a nice, deep sleep for me. Okay? Nod if you understand, Francis.”

 

Lolling his head, Francis made a slight movement that resembled close enough to a nod. The doctor made a hum of approval.

 

“Wonderful. Well then, I’m going to start for us then, okay?

 

...

 

“ _Ten_... Any tension you have in your muscles at this point are completely gone, floating away just like you are...”

 

 

“ _Nine_... weightless, as you wander away into the realm of sleep...”

 

 

“ _Eight_...”

 

 

“ _Seven_... already at your limit, Francis; just another breath away from sleep...”

 

 

“ _Six_...”

 

...

 

Francis was already blissfully asleep before the doctor could even get to “ _Five_ ”.

 

“Alright, let’s take care of these pesky migraines shall we? In a moment, I’m going to snap my fingers together. When I do, you are going to open your eyes to a _tranced, sleep-like state_  where only your subconscious is awake, so that I can finally give you the hypnotic suggestions you need.”

 

With that, the doctor snapped his fingers. Immediately, the boy’s bright green eyes fluttered open. Everything else about him, from his light shallow breathing to the laxness of his muscles, showed no signs of awareness; even his open eyes, with that telltale vacant stare, still made Francis seem as if he was still fast asleep on the couch. Dr. Jones softly brushed the boy’s temples with his fingers.

 

“How do you feel now, Francis? How is the migraine?”

 

“Good... relaxed... no more migraine,” Francis slurred out, grogginess still present in his speech just as before.

 

“ _Wonderful_. I need you to answer a few questions first before we begin with the hypnotic rewiring. Now, how long have you had these migraines for?”

 

“Since I was four... I think.”

 

“I see. And what does it feel like when you have them? Describe it for me as best as you can, please.”

 

“It feels... it feels like someone is taking a screwdriver inside of my head and repeatedly... in one spot drilling the right side of my head...” Francis winced slightly, as if merely recalling it was painful enough for him. “Between that and the nausea... Sometimes it gets so bad that I can’t do anything but curl up in bed and cry.

 

”Hurts... hurts a lot.”

 

“I see. That truly sounds awful, doesn’t it? And for so long too, poor thing. I bet  _any other feeling in the world_ is nothing compared to the extreme pain you must feel with these migraines,” the doctor mused, placing extra emphasis on that particular phrase. “Is that so? Are these migraines so severe, so painful, that they cannot compare to  _any other feeling in the world_?”

 

Francis nodded.

 

“Yes, what a problem indeed... If only somehow, we could perhaps... _**replace**_  the pain of these pesky migraines with  _any other feeling in the world_...” the doctor suggested, running his fingers through the boy’s strawberry blonde hair.

 

“Replace... with any other... feeling... yeah..” Francis murmured softly, closing his eyes and leaning into the comfort of the doctor’s touch.

 

“Is that what you want, Francis? For me to take away this pain and _**replace**  it with any other feeling in the world_?”

 

The doctor was right; both the pain from the migraines and the associated nausea often became so severe that he found himself unable to do much of anything but lie down in fetal position, tossing and turning in vain waiting for it to pass. Sometimes, it would take even longer than a day for him to be able to think straight or talk again after having one. Any other feeling in the world would simply be heaven compared to the suffering he felt from the migraines.

 

If only he could replace it with literally _any other feeling in the world_... Francis nodded without hesitation.

 

“Good... _wonderful_. If we are to replace it with _any other feeling in the world_... then let’s replace it with something less painful, then—something like...  _thirst_. Every time you would usually get a migraine, none of the severe, debilitating pain that comes with it ever comes; instead, you just start to feel a little  _thirsty_  instead.”

 

Francis furrowed his brows at the doctor's odd suggestion, not completely comprehending it but not completely refusing it, either. The doctor ran his fingers through his hair again—soothingly as he would with a frightened animal, and effectively lulling the boy into an even deeper state of complaisance and obedience. 

 

“No, no—just a little. You'll start to just feel a slight 'itch'— _the slightest itch you can barely feel_ —in the back of your dry throat. How bad would that feeling be, compared to the migraines? Nothing as _severe_ and _debilitating_ as the pain of the migraines, most definitely.”

 

Francis took a few seconds to let the words sink in. A thirst he could barely feel every once in awhile, in exchange for a lifetime of crippling pain and agony...  _Who wouldn’t make such a deal?_ He nodded fervently, practically begging the doctor as he obediently allowed those words to further shape his pliant mind.

 

“Please, doctor... I want to replace the pain...”

 

The doctor chuckled darkly. “As you wish then, Francis. From now until the next time you see me again for your next appointment, you will feel slightly thirsty whenever you would otherwise feel a migraine coming. We will work on amplifying this a little more next session, but for now this will be all for today. It is  _ **imperative**_  that you come again for another session, or else the treatment will not work and the severe, debilitating pain will only come back  _ **worse**_. Nod if you understand me, Francis; there is never a need to question my claims from now on, as I will take care of you and your migraines as promised. ”

 

Of course there was no need to question the doctor for anything; what would he himself know that a doctor wouldn’t? The doctor is here to make him better, however that may be. Letting those words wash over him and take control of his mind, Francis obediently nodded. 

 

“Good. Now that we seem to be done for today, I’m going to snap my fingers after counting down from three. This will be what I do to end every session; whenever I do, you are to wake up and not have any recollection of doing anything in your tranced state, but the suggestions I give will always stay deeply within your subconscious. Even if you may not remember them yourself, what I tell you is **irreversible** and will always stay in your mind. This is how I will be able to better help you. Is that clear?”

  

“Yes, doctor,” the boy mindlessly replied.

 

“Alright then. In three... two...  _one_.”

 

... 

 

With a snap of his fingers, awareness quickly returned into the depths of the boy’s bright green eyes. Francis yawned a bit, stretching his arms out before looking all around him perplexedly.

 

“Uh... Doctor Jones? Sorry, but... when are we going to actually start with the hypnosis?”

 

“Start?” The doctor beamed at him. “Why, we were just finished Francis! You don’t remember? Tell me you don’t notice anything different?”

 

“I, uh... hm...” Francis scratched his head, perplexed. _Different?_ He couldn't even remember any time passing by between now and the time he closed his eyes on the couch.

 

“I don't think I  _feel_ anything...” the boy furrowed his brows, folding his arms together. “.....Ah...”

 

_Wait, that's it!_

 

Only after a few seconds of thinking and mulling over his words had it occurred to him. His bright green eyes widened with the realization. “.... I don’t feel anything anymore! I don't feel any of the migraines anymore!” He leapt to his feet, bouncing up and down and vibrating with sheer excitement. “It worked, didn’t it? It really worked! I don’t feel it anymore at all! Oh, I don’t know how I can ever repay you, doctor!”

 

“That's quite alright,” the doctor chuckled, waving his hands, “It is only the first session, after all; we still have a ways to go before you are fully finished. 

 

“As for 'repaying' me... you don't even need to worry about it for now, remember? I typically do not charge my patients anything until they are satisfied with my work, especially since so many people tend to be skeptical at first. This first session is on the house; we can discuss a payment plan to cover for future sessions during the next time I see you.”

 

Francis couldn’t believe his luck. All of this just seemed too good to be true! After scheduling for his next appointment, Francis bid the doctor goodbye and happily headed on his way—grinning ear to ear all the way home, and remaining all the while oblivious to what awaits him at his next visit.


	2. Behind the Scenes

Cameron glanced at his wristwatch. He had sent Francis home with seventeen minutes still left of their session, finishing much earlier than he had anticipated. The boy had been one of the easier patients he’s had—that much, he can already tell just by how quickly this session had taken. The doctor sighed, smirking at the thought of how easily and quickly the boy will fall prey to him. 

 

 _And what a sight for sore eyes he was, too._  

 

It was admittedly difficult to hold himself back from simply devouring him in his sleep. Having such an innocent boy succumb to his every word, right before his eyes—mind and body laid bare, vulnerable, _obedient_ to the power of his every whim; just who in the world could resist such a thing? When he ran his fingers through the light auburn of his hair, it was simply _oh-so-tempting_ to let his fingers trail down his face and quietly slip in between those soft, inviting lips of his... It was difficult to turn away such an opportunity; Cameron was only able to stop himself just enough to focus on the real goal at hand, and even then it hadn't been easy. 

 

Francis was not the first of the doctor's "targets", after all.

 

He leaned back, swiveling on his desk chair before finally propping his feet up on the back of his “footstool”—another young man who had also fallen prey to his abilities years ago. Plagued by spiraling alcoholism, this former patient of his had simply appeared at the front of his door two years ago, nearly penniless, homeless, and completely at his wit’s end. Now, it spends most of its days content being bound, collared, and stuffed full of cock as one of the few “toys” proudly owned by the doctor. The young man remained on all fours, naked and completely hidden underneath the doctor’s desk, and had obediently stayed that way for the entire length of the session with Francis. Extensive hypnosis had permanently broken its mind; gone were the memories, thoughts,  _anything_ that could remotely resemble that of a living creature, and left in its wake was a clean slate for the doctor to freely control  _for the rest of its life_. Stripped of everything both physically and mentally, the “footstool” was practically indistinguishable from the rest of the furniture Cameron owned in his office—silent, unthinking; serving their master without so much of an input of their own.

 

The doctor had also owned two more “toys” in addition to this one, all similarly broken, though different in function. The “footstool” had been his latest acquisition before Francis and, for a while, he was content with leaving it at that—simply taking the odd request or two after that to cover up his tracks and hide within plain sight. It was only when he laid eyes upon Francis that Cameron had decided he  _needed_  yet another in his collection. Unlike the rest that he had already owned, he wanted Francis as a different type of “toy” this time.

 

Cameron wanted the boy as a _pet_ —one who will eagerly fall on his knees, whining and begging to lap at his master’s cock of his own volition.

 

While he simply cannot wait to have Francis wrapping his lips hungrily around cock, the entire process of coaxing him there excited the doctor just as much. It was best to start out small at first, to have the boy willingly agree and trust the hypnotic suggestions. The claim he had made earlier—that “real hypnosis would not work if the person does not want it”—was only half-true, after all. While Cameron had been able to force his abilities onto his now broken, "furniture-like" toys in the past, it had resulted in just that: the complete, utter shattering of one's mind. His "footstool", much like the other "toys" he owned, was a clear example of what happened when he was careless with his abilities— broken; unable to think, act, or _do_ anything without direct instruction.

 

He did not want to do that again this time.

 

Not to Francis.

 

Rushing the process would only leave room for error, and he couldn't have that happen this time. No, Cameron would rather spend a few more sessions molding his new toy to perfection than to carelessly break yet another in his rush. By starting out with small, innocuous suggestions during the first session, Francis' mind will eventually learn to trust the doctor and accept the hypnosis wholeheartedly, letting his words envelop and take root in the depths of his psyche until the boy can eventually work up to accepting his rightful place as Cameron’s lapdog, groveling and drooling for his master’s cock.

 

The doctor slid out the vibrator nestled inside his “footstool” playfully, earning a labored gasp from it.

 

“What did you think of Francis earlier? Wasn’t he simply _adorable~_?”

 

Knowing full well that his “footstool” is unable to reply, Cameron was content with simply dialing up the intensity of the vibrator and sliding it back in, eliciting a desperate groan from it as if it had responded. The arms of the trembling “footstool” gave out from underneath not long after, its mouth hanging open and panting in silent, mindless bliss. Cameron smiled at the pretty sight.

 

During the next session with Francis, he would amplify the suggestion and modify it in a way so that the slight thirst he feels is not only intensified, but also only resolved with thicker fluids, like heavy cream. He wants to slowly work his pet up to associating what would otherwise be his constant migraines with a constant need to swallow his master’s thick load. He’ll also start introducing him to the “footstool” then as well—to habituate him to the concept of human "toys" often enough that getting him to accept such a role will be much easier a suggestion.

 

Undoing his pants, Cameron stroked himself to the thought of simultaneously ravaging both Francis and his “toys”. It had been getting a bit too quiet with just furniture to accompany him, but the prospect of soon adding an eager "lap dog" to his collection excited him. The doctor grabbed his “footstool” by its long hair as he slid his thick hard length into it, vibrator and all still inside. Despite his new excitement, he was in no rush to claim Francis just yet, especially when he still had such marvelous “toys” to play with in the meantime. The “footstool” merely trembled in place, both physically and mentally unable to buck away despite the obvious pain of having just been split in two by both cock and vibrator. After permanently shattering its mind, Cameron had made sure to thoroughly condition the “footstool” like all of the “toys” he owned—to always mindlessly enjoy pleasing its master no matter what is done to it; reducing them into the perfect brainless “toys”, unable to refuse their master in any shape or form. Letting go of its hair, Cameron slid his hand underneath just to toy with its chest.

 

“I remember when I first laid eyes on you. Hopeless. Wretched. Full of despair. Stumbling here half-drunk on a stormy night, you threw yourself at my doorstep, completely at the mercy of a mere _stranger_ —desperate as you were and having nothing left to your name,” the doctor softly mused, mostly to himself. There was something about the doctor that simply lured people like Francis, the "footstool", and the rest of his "toys" to him, like moths to a flame—helpless victims of circumstance, at their wits end, hoping to seek relief in a miracle. People like them were his _favorite_ ; vulnerable souls with nothing left to lose, no fight left in them, and no one to miss them when they inevitably "disappear" right into his clutches. Simply the perfect candidates for his purposes. 

 

The "footstool" shuddered, relishing the teasing brush of fingers against sensitive flesh. It didn't really matter which part of itself the doctor chooses to touch. Everything had been reduced to just mindless sensation, and every mindless sensation simply felt _good_. The extensive hypnosis had left the "footstool" with only one purpose: to please its master in any way possible. Fulfilling that purpose is all that the "footstool" knows; nothing felt as good as being debased and abused simply for its master's enjoyment. Even staying underneath the desk, naked and on all fours all day, felt so mind-numbingly incredible that there was scarcely a moment when the "footstool" was not left achingly hard.  

 

“Just take a look at how far you've come now,” Cameron grinned, replacing the feathery strokes of his fingers with a sudden, hard tug. The "footstool" cried out at the sensation, grateful for having its nipples played with so roughly. “You are simply  _made_ to be fucked and stuffed full of cock by your master, aren't you? My perfect, mindless sex toy.”

 

“Pretty soon, you and the other toys will have someone new to play with, too.” the doctor grunted out, doling out a particularly hard thrust and earning a whimper from the "footstool". “A pet this time. Isn't that exciting?”

 

“Of course, it will take some time to get him ready first. You _will_ help me get Francis ready for us, won't you?”

 

The "footstool" could only nod to everything the doctor was saying, too lost in sensation to comprehend anything. Not that it could ever refuse the doctor even if it had understood, anyhow. 

 

“ _Perfect_ ,” he drawled out.“What a perfect little slut you've become for me, Lucas." Cameron picked up the pace as he was nearing completion, gripping on his "footstool's" slender black hair as he ravaged it to his heart's content. With a breathless moan, the “footstool” spent itself right onto the carpet just as Cameron had filled its insides with his thick, warm load.

 

The doctor chuckled. Pulling himself out, he was content in drinking in the sight of his lovely "toy" leaking thick gobs of white onto the carpet below. 

 

“You don’t need to be told what to do. Go on, now.” 

 

Immediately, the “footstool” lowered its head to lap up the mess it had made, making sure to get every last drop spilled on the carpet. Then, having finished cleaning up its mess, it turned its body around to lick the cum that had ran down its legs and onto the floor behind it. The doctor ran his fingers down its face amusedly, settling his thumb just underneath the lips to wipe the thick mess of fluids there and spread it all across its flushed cheeks.  

 

He simply can’t wait for the day he could do all of this to Francis, too.


	3. The Second Session

On the day of his next appointment, Francis had shown up to the doctor’s practice with nothing but a grin on his face. The eight days after his first session had simply blown him away with how _blissful_ it had been. Never in a million years had he imagined that life without crippling pain could be so... lively. So wonderful.

 

And, most importantly, so very _possible_ for someone like him.

 

That very night after his first session, Francis had laid wide awake on his bed for the longest time—too giddy to sleep. He had even woken up that following morning feeling more refreshed than he had ever felt in years, despite having gotten little sleep that night from the overwhelming excitement. _This is it_ , he had thought to himself, grinning ear to ear as he eagerly jumped out of bed, ready to greet the days ahead. _After all this time, this is the one miracle I was looking for_. The one miracle that he had prayed for all these years; the one that will finally give him a chance at a better life.

 

The boy was waiting quietly in the lobby, holding a magazine in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. The clock on the wall had read 10:24 AM at the time—six minutes before the time of his actual appointment with Dr. Jones. He had gotten up early and even taken a taxi to get there that morning—not wanting to risk even a minute of his session time being late, eager as he was for it.

 

Just as he started leafing through the magazine he was holding, Francis heard the door to the lobby unlock.

 

“Francis? Ah, there you are. Come on in; just follow me right in here.”

 

Dr. Jones stepped in, leading him out the lobby and down the hallway into his office. After closing the door behind him, he seated himself directly across from the boy as he had during their first session.

 

“Welcome back, Francis. I’m glad you were able to come—and quite early today too, I’ve noticed. How have you been these past few days?”

 

“Great!” Francis beamed, unable to contain his excitement, “This past week had just been the _best_. No migraines, no nothing! I couldn’t even believe it myself the first few days. Gosh, I haven’t felt this amazing in... in I don’t even know how long, at this point!”

 

The doctor chuckled, thoroughly amused by the boy’s enthusiasm. “Good! I’m very happy to hear that. I’m sure you’ll only get to feel _even better_ as these sessions go by. Looking at your progress now, I’d say you’d only need a few more left, too—about... one more after this one, perhaps.”

 

“Wait, really?” The boy’s eyes grew wider with his smile. “One more session! Well then, what are we waiting for, doctor?”

 

“Alright then,” the doctor nodded, folding his legs together in his chair. “Let’s get started.”

 

...

 

“I want you to slowly ease into the chair first, just like I had you do in our first session. _Relax yourself_ ; just feel each muscle in your body slowly melt right onto the nice, soft cushions.”

 

“Are you lying on your back now? Are you feeling comfortable?”

 

Francis slowly nodded, yawning as he settled himself right into the soft, welcoming pillows. They had only just begun not too long ago, and yet already he could feel the doctor’s voice growing further and further away...

 

“Take a deep breath. Inhale in—then exhale out, nice and slow. Breathe in... and out. In... and out...

 

“As you breathe, I want you to slowly close your eyes for me. With every breath in, I want you to feel your eyelids slowly getting heavier... With every breath out, you feel yourself getting a little sleepier. Breathe in, eyelids... growing heavy... Breathe out, growing sleepier and sleepier still, until staying awake for even a second... longer... becomes... too... hard........ ”

 

The doctor hadn’t even the chance to count down this time—already finding the boy fast asleep before he could have even started. Dr. Jones hummed in approval.

 

“Now, then—when I snap my fingers together, you are to open your eyes and wake up in a deeply entranced state; fully under hypnosis, just like before...”

 

“....In three... two... one.”

 

The boy’s eyelids slowly fluttered open with the snap of the doctor’s fingers—his eyes once again holding the same empty, vacant look in them as they had during his first session.

 

“Welcome back, Francis. How are you feeling?”

 

“I’m feeling... good,” the boy mumbled sleepily, mouth just as lax as the rest of his muscles. “Just a bit thirsty... Throat’s a little... dry.”

 

“Is it now? How often would you say you... _felt that_ , during these past few days?”

 

“Mmm... a lot. More than... usual now, I think...”

 

“ _Wonderful_ ,” the doctor purred, seemingly happy with this answer. “You must feel _very happy_ that you’re feeling _thirsty_ so often now, don’t you? It’s a sign that you are getting _better_ , after all.”

 

“A sign that I’m better....mm...” the boy mumbled softly, taking some time to process the suggestion.

 

Though he certainly had noticed it before, Francis hadn’t thought of his increasing thirst as anything much at all. To think—all of this time, it had actually been a _sign_ like that... He would have never guessed. Yet—even if he couldn’t understand it himself—he could only trust what Dr. Jones had told him. It only made sense that the doctor would know better about these matters than he would. And the doctor had done so well in having cured his pain these last few days... why would he have any reason not to believe him now?

 

Francis nodded slowly, letting the suggestion take root in his mind.

 

 _Yes... of course. The doctor had to be right._ That familiar itch in the back of his throat could only be a sign that he was getting better—it only happened after the migraines had stopped, after all. And of course getting better would make him _very happy._ So it only follows that he would be _very_ _happy_ whenever he felt himself grow thirsty; just as the doctor had said.

 

“Yes, Francis. It’s a _good_ sign, and one you’re _very happy_ to feel _._ And you simply can’t help it, can you? Whenever you feel yourself becoming thirsty, you just can’t help but feel _very happy_ that you’re getting better.”

 

Francis nodded again, this time with more certainty as he fully accepts the doctor’s words. He licked his lips, feeling all the more _happy_ by the minute—just like the doctor had told him he would.

 

“Thirsty... but... I'm really happy...”

 

“That’s right, Francis,” the doctor softly spoke, stroking the boy’s face.  “You feel so _happy_ at getting better that _you only want to feel even happier._ When you feel yourself thirst, it just gets _harder_ and _harder_ for you to think about anything else until the only thing you can think of is _making your_ **_body_** _feel happy too.”_

 

Dr. Jones leaned himself closer, until his lips were just a breath away from the spellbound boy.

 

“You are just _so, very happy_ right now,” he whispered. “You simply can’t help yourself. So very _thirsty_ , and so very _happy_ , _aren’t we_?” The doctor licked at the shell of his ear.

 

“ _You want to feel even_ **_happier_** _, don’t you Francis~?_ ”

 

The boy eagerly nodded, panting out in quick, shallow breaths. His flushed skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat as his body grew warm with arousal.

 

“I want to feel even... happier…”

 

“ _Wonderful_ ,” the doctor purred, thumbing the boy’s lips. “Then you simply _must_ be thirsty for a drink right now; it's the only thing that can make you feel any... _happier_ , after all.”

 

“No, not just any drink, either—your _absolute_ ** _favorite_** _drink:_ a _nice,_ _thick_ , _creamy_ ** _milkshake_**.”

 

“Nice... creamy... milkshake,” Francis obediently repeated.

 

“That’s right, Francis. _A thick, creamy white milkshake_. You’ve _always_ _loved_ milkshakes—you can’t remember a time when you didn’t love the feeling of having _sticky, creamy_ shake right on your tongue, or the way you would wrap your lips around a _big fat straw_ and slurp it right up. Nothing makes you any happier than swallowing _such a thick, creamy beverage_ _right down your throat.”_

 

Francis softly whined, drool helplessly pooling down his chin as both mind and body both succumb to the power of the suggestion. He was _so, very happy_ right now and desperately felt the need to make his body feel _even happier_ with a milkshake. He licked his lips, swallowing thickly.

 

“You’d like a nice, _creamy milkshake_ right now, wouldn’t you?”

 

Francis couldn’t have nodded his head any faster. He wanted a milkshake. He _needed_ a milkshake.

 

_He would do anything for that milkshake._

 

Dr. Jones walked back to his desk and tugged on a leather leash from underneath it, revealing a young man—naked, collared, and crawling on all fours.

 

“Francis, this is one of my 'toys'. In just a moment it's going to make you _very happy_ and give you the nice, thick _milkshake_ you need right now. However, it will only do that **_if you behave nicely,_ ** ” he emphasized, flashing a toothy smile. “And you certainly _will_ , won't you Francis? You _want_ to feel very happy, _and you'll do anything to earn it_.”

 

The boy simply nodded, too deeply entranced to question the presence of the collared young man.

 

“First,” the doctor yanked the leash in his hand, forcing his "toy" to stand upright on its knees, “before you can even drink such a _thick, creamy beverage_ , you need a _big, fat 'straw'_ to slurp it from.” He took the "footstool's" length in the palm of his hand to demonstrate to the boy. “This 'straw' is not big enough yet, you see? How can you ever get a single drop from anything so soft and small?”

 

“You need to make it bigger, first.” Dr. Jones urged, beckoning Francis to come closer to his "toy". “Come now, don't be shy. Take the 'straw' in your hand right _here_ —yes, _just_ like that—and wrap your fingers around it. Up and down, just like that...”

 

The "footstool" had shivered upon feeling the touch of his fingers, breathing heavily as it grew more and more aroused in the slow, steady pace of the boy's hand.

 

“Yes... It feels absolutely _wonderful_ , doesn't it Francis? There's nothing you love _more_ than getting the straw _nice and big_ for your _thick, creamy milkshake_ ,” the doctor drawled, panting softly as he strokes himself to the lovely sight laid out before him. “You just love it so much that you can't help but _run your tongue all over it_ , _savoring_ the taste of it as you wrap your lips around it and take it in your mouth— _relishing_ the feel of it resting _snugly_ in the back of your throat—right before you guzzle down _every last drop of that thick, creamy milkshake you can't get enough of_.”

 

The suggestions took no time at all in planting themselves right into the boy's mind—echoing in his mind one after another, quickly rewiring his subconscious into becoming the filthy, debauched image that the doctor had set out to create of him. Crawling on all fours and obediently following his every command, Francis looked no different to the "lapdog" from the doctor's imagination—eagerly lapping up the achingly hard cock in his hand and savoring the thick, heady taste of it with his tongue as if it was the best thing his taste buds had ever come across. He couldn't help the low, guttural moan that escaped his lips upon having the "toy" in his mouth, nor could he help the aching need he felt to have it even deeper inside of him. The feeling of such a warm, massive 'straw' stretching his lips so obscenely, so _perfectly,_ right before getting to feel every last drop of the _thick, delicious_ _milkshake_ slither down his throat ...

 

Francis was simply dizzy with it all.   

 

"Amazing. Just _look_ at you, Francis," the doctor panted out, "Making my 'toy' so happy by **_behaving so nicely._ ** You're so very happy like this too, aren’t you? Being on your _knees_ , _begging_ and _behaving so nicely_ for a chance to finally slurp down a nice, creamy _milkshake_."

 

The boy made a happy whine in the back of his throat. He loved being on his knees. He loved begging for milkshakes. He was _behaving so nicely_ , desperate as he was, and he loved every minute of it—just as the doctor had told him.  

 

Dr. Jones chuckled. "You've learned to _behave so nicely_ that you deserve your reward now, don't you? Your _thick, creamy milkshake._ "

 

Francis nodded, eagerly bobbing his head up and down in the process. The "toy" let out a breathy moan in response to that, vacant eyes rolling back in sheer bliss.

 

" _Wonderful._ In a minute, my toy is going to reward you with your absolute favorite drink: a _nice, creamy milkshake, just for you._ And you’re going to finish _every last drop_ , aren’t you? You’re going to _make your body feel so happy_ just by tasting such a _thick, creamy, delicious drink_ that you can't help but lap up _every last drop of it_."

 

"Mmh…” Francis slid out with a pop. “Every... last... drop..."

 

"Yes, Francis. _Every. Last._ _Drop._ The milkshake will be so _good_ , you'll see. By the end of it, you will love it so much that your body will become so _hopelessly_ **_addicted_** to it—willing to do anything for it every time you feel thirsty, from here on out. Are you excited?"    

 

Francis earnestly nodded. "Mmhh… Please, doctor… I want…it…"

 

The doctor guided the boy’s head back down onto the “footstool’s” cock. Then, grabbing it by its long, slender hair, he leaned in close to his “toy” and whispered something Francis could not make out. Its eyes widened as the doctor spoke and, with a loud cry, the “footstool” came as if on command—pumping load after load down the boy’s throat.

 

The boy moaned as he did his best to swallow it all. There were simply _so much of it,_ and every drop had been nothing short of _pure, delicious ecstasy_. With a muffled groan, Francis shivered as he felt himself reach orgasm, just as the “toy” continued filling his throat and mouth with the thick, creamy milkshake.

 

He had been able to come completely untouched— _just from having his throat stuffed with a stranger’s cock_. Just from getting on his knees and _begging_ for another man’s load.

 

There was no turning back now. It was clear, at this point; both his mind and body had relinquished too much control to the hypnosis, succumbing to it wholly and allowing it to root itself so deeply and irreversibly into his subconscious. Even if Francis were to realize the truth now, it would be too late—he would now be too far gone, too addicted to the feeling of pleasuring cock with his mouth, to fight this even if he wanted to.

 

Just one more session left before Francis becomes the doctor's perfect lapdog.

 

Smirking to himself, Dr. Jones straightened up and dragged his "toy" back underneath the desk. Right where it belonged.

 

"How do you feel?"

 

"So... very... happy..." Francis mumbled, licking his lips.

 

"Wonderful..." the doctor drawled, running his fingers through the boy's strawberry blond hair. "Simply _wonderful_."

 

“Now… In a moment I’m going to snap my fingers after counting down from three, to end our session. Just like before, you are to wake up and not have any recollection of doing anything in your tranced state, but the suggestions I gave you will always stay within your subconscious—whether you realize it or not.”

 

The boy nodded, smiling contentedly.

 

“Here we go, then; in three… two… one.”

 

...

 

With a snap of the doctor’s fingers, life returned into the boy’s eyes again. Just like before, Francis stretched out his arms and yawned—completely unaware to all that he had done with the doctor and his “toy” just a few moments ago.

 

“Heya, doctor. How did the session go?”

 

“I think it went _very well_ this time,” The doctor replied, smiling. “We have made so much progress together in this session alone that I am almost certain in that you will not need any more sessions after your next one.”

 

“Wow... really? That sounds amazing!”

 

The two wrapped up the last of their session and worked out a good day for their upcoming last appointment. Francis got up to leave and bid the doctor goodbye, when something he remembered all of a sudden stopped him short of the door.  

 

“Oh… um, Dr. Jones? What should I do for payment for all of this…?”

 

The doctor paused thoughtfully.

 

“Hm… As for the topic of _payment_ … since this upcoming session will be the last and most important one, you can wait to pay for all of my services then. I do accept many forms of payment, and we can even… _negotiate_ the prices if you so choose as well,” Dr. Jones said, shrugging his shoulders. “Honestly, there is really nothing to worry about with prices and payment. This is a private, low-cost practice of mine, after all; while I still have bills to pay, I am mostly doing this for those that need it. _Helping people_ is my priority, first and foremost.”  

 

“Wow… You’re the best, Dr. Jones,” Francis smiled earnestly, waving him goodbye. “I wish there were more doctors and people out there like you.”

 

“Thank you, Francis; you’re simply too much,” the doctor smirked, shutting the door behind him.

 

“Simply too much _fun_ isn’t he, Lucas?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the kudos and comments! I certainly didn't anticipate so many people would like and follow this story so closely, and in such a short amount of time too! Unfortunately, college had started for me a couple of days ago and classes have been particularly hard from the get-go; I thought I could finish this at least before classes had started, but things took a longer turn than I had expected with this chapter and I ended up adding a lot more to it than I had anticipated. 
> 
> Now that I will be swamped with classes, I will have to roll out with updates for this much more slowly from here on out. I really enjoy writing this however, and would love to hear suggestions, feedback, and ideas to my writing in the meantime; I am currently thinking on whether or not Francis will find out what's been done to him and fight it, or whether he will remain completely trusting to the doctor the entire process, and I'd love to know what you would be more interested in seeing! Let me know in the comments, and I will do my best to roll out another chapter sometime soon. :)


	4. The Final Session – Part One

 

“That’s good... Yes, just like that...”

 

Cameron sighed blissfully. He slowly closed his eyes, reveling in the tight, wet heat of the boy’s throat spasming around his cock.

 

Sure enough, Francis had arrived at his office promptly when it came time for his final session _—_ unable to fight against the sheer power of the previous suggestions even if he had thought to do so.

 

The mental programming had come around nicely in molding the boy into his perfect, obedient slave. No longer did the boy even take the time to process the suggestions before immediately succumbing to his every word, unlike in previous sessions; this time, it had taken such a short amount of time to pull him under that Cameron hadn’t even bothered counting down _—_ completely trusting of him as he was.

 

What a naïve boy.

 

Unlike the rest of his toys, who had at least put up a decent amount of resistance even despite their circumstances, Francis had been so easy to give himself to him that it was simply remarkable. The longer the sessions went on, the more Cameron could feel the control sliding away from the boy’s own mind as it lands right into the palm of his hand. With how easy it had all been, it was almost as if Francis had willingly crawled on his knees and put the collar right on himself.

 

Cameron would have it no other way.

 

“Doesn’t this make you so happy, Francis? Putting that little mouth of yours to good use like this. You _love_ being on your knees _,_ begging for your favorite thick, creamy drink from your master. Nothing feels better than wrapping your lips around a thick cock and stuffing your throat raw with it when you’re this thirsty. A warm, willing mouth, taking cock like a pro.

 

“And you just can’t help it, can you? Those migraines that used to plague you so often has really done well to turn you into a _thirsty, cock-worshipping cumslut.”_

 

The barrage of suggestions one by one made quick work in undoing the boy’s mind. With each thrust of the doctor’s hips, Francis could only nod and moan happily around the doctor’s cock. It was hard to breathe having such a thick member shoved deep into the back of his throat, but he loved that exact feeling of choking and gagging on such a huge cock. His knees were beginning to ache from kneeling on the rough, scratchy carpet for so long, but that only worked to heighten the pleasure he felt servicing the doctor. In fact, every single part of pleasing the doctor felt nothing short of amazing: the heady mixture of musk, sweat, and cock on his tastebuds, the feeling of his nose buried in the doctor’s gray curls. The mere act of begging for it had been so coded into him to feel good that all of it—even the aching of his knees and the pain from his abused throat—left him dizzy with arousal.

 

“Look at you,” the doctor chuckled, snaking his fingers through the boy’s strawberry blond locks, “it’s almost like I can’t even recognize you anymore. But that’s not true is it? No, you were _always_ like this—even if you didn’t know it, or believe it at the time.

 

“Yes, that’s right... Deep down, you were always a _good, obedient cocksleeve_. Those migraines, they were just a way your body tried to let you know what it _really_ needs...” Balling his fist into Francis’ hair, he pulled the boy back until his lips are merely brushing the tip of his head, before slamming all the way back into his throat, emphasizing each of his words with a hard, pronounced thrust.

 

“ _A_. _Good. Hard._ ** _Fucking_**.”

 

Francis whined loudly. It was hard to keep his voice down as he obediently slurped around the doctor’s length. His own erection stood tall between his thighs, red, engorged, and dripping wet—desperate for even the slightest touch from the doctor for him to come undone at any moment. He eagerly sucked and slobbered on cock—lips red, plump, and soaked with precum and saliva. Moaning as he got himself closer and closer to the edge with each thrust.

 

“Hm? Do you want something? Do you want to cum untouched for me, taking my cock deep in your throat?”

 

The boy happily nodded around his cock.

 

“Of course you are. A filthy, obedient cocksleeve has no need to touch himself; only getting down on his knees and begging for his favorite creamy drink from his master is enough to send him over the edge. Isn’t that right, Francis?”

 

Not a second before the boy could finish right then and there, the doctor slid out of his mouth and slipped something on Francis' cock, eliciting a desperate yelp from him. It was a small cockring—one that tightly wrapped around the base of the boy's erection and prevented him from reaching the orgasm he was on the edge of having.

 

Cameron tutted, shaking his head and smiling deviously at his pet.

 

“Who told you that you can finish just yet? You’re never done until I _say_ you are. _”_

 

Francis could only whimper in response. His mind was too addled from a dizzying mix of arousal and desperation to convey his frustration into coherent words. He stared up at his master helplessly, willing to do anything for the permission to come.

 

“No... You’re not done just yet because there’s _something else_ that a thirsty cum dumpster like you enjoys just as much as gagging on his master’s cock.”

 

Chuckling, the doctor pulled out a small plastic bottle of lube from the second drawer to his right, making sure Francis can clearly see him pop open the cap and generously coat his fingers with it.

 

“Turn around for me. Raise your hips. Face down, ass up—just like that. I’m about to show you what the other half of your life will be spent doing from now on.”

 

Francis promptly did as he was told, shivering in anticipation as he did so. Cameron circled the tip of his index finger slowly around the boy’s rim, spreading the lube all throughout and enjoying the way Francis bucked and whined at the sensation.

 

“Tell me, boy, have you taken cock up here before? Are you just itching for it like you have for all the previous ones you’ve had before? Or are you just a natural-born slut for it?”

 

“No, Master— I've... never had anyone before...” Francis moaned out in between panting. His taut frame simply vibrated from underneath the doctor. Overstimulated and desperate for the release that he could never have—not without his master’s permission, at least. He _needed_ to please the doctor, and he needed to do it soon.

 

“Oh?” Cameron raised an eyebrow, grinning. “My... This will be a _lot_ more fun than I had expected, then.”

 

With that, he breached the tight entrance in one slow motion. He only pushed in his index finger—in and out, never even extending past the second knuckle to allow the innocent virgin some time to adjust. Yet despite his marked gentleness, the boy underneath him was already reduced to a lively mess; trembling badly and covered in a sheen of sweat that soaked every inch of his flushed skin and matted hair. If it wasn't made obvious by the way his vacant green eyes had rolled back into his head, or the way he had moved his hips to the rhythm of his finger, the mindless stream of " _please_ ", " _more_ ", and other incoherent moans should tell anyone how much of a slut for cock the boy had turned into in a matter of a few sessions.

 

It was a wonderful sight to behold—this culmination of his powers laid out before him like this. 

 

“Francis, Francis... The real fun hasn’t even begun yet, and look how _horny_ you are for it.You _thirsty, cock-hungry cum dumpster._ It’s who you are—what you’ve _always_ been deep down—and you simply can’t help yourself as I bring it all out of you.” He inserted another finger and slowly stretched the boy out, scissoring them in and out of him. Crooking his fingers at _just_ the right angle eventually, and drawing out a loud, desperate groan from the boy.

 

“Oh look at you,” Cameron chuckled, continuing to tease the little sweet spot inside of him now that he’s found it, “Your cock here is simply dripping right now, isn’t it? For you, it doesn’t matter which lips I stuff full of cock, or which hole I stuff full of your favorite drink. You absolutely _love_ it either way. All you are, all you want to be in life, is a good, obedient cocksleeve for your master, see?”

 

Francis mindlessly nodded, too lost in the sensations to even process what is being suggested. All this time, the doctor has made him feel nothing short of _amazing_. He’d taken away the pain when no one else could have.He’d allowed him the chance to do more— _enjoy more_ —out of his life. And now, he’s driving him to the very edge of what would undoubtedly be the best orgasm he’s ever felt in his entire life. There is no room for doubt left in his subconscious of the doctor’s intentions at this point—no mental barriers left to selectively filter through what suggestions make sense and what shouldn’t. His brain’s been whipped into a puddle of mush, both by the barrage of suggestions constantly branding and rewiring him to suit his new master’s perverse needs, and by the heightened amount of sexual pleasure he felt, being forced on his knees to deepthroat earlier, and now having his prostate played with like this.

 

There was no need to think, or process, or do anything but obey—obey his master blindly and accept the pleasure it gave him.

 

Without any warning, the boy felt fingers drawn out from inside of him. Francis turned his head towards the doctor in confusion, squirming helplessly and whining at the new, dreadful sense of emptiness he felt.

 

“Master...?”

 

“Now now, Francis. In a minute, I’ll give you the big, _thick_ cock your body so craves. But I want to do things a little... _differently_ this time,” Cameron stated, flashing a devious, toothy smile.

 

“You’ve been such a good, obedient, eager cocksleeve for me that I know you’d do anything for it right now, while under this trance. You can’t help it anymore, your body simply _craves_ it too much that you’ll go insane without it. But I want to see all of this from you while you’re fully awake, too. I want to break you in _thoroughly_ ; show you how much of a _slut_ you are for your master that, no matter how you may feel about it at first _, you would eventually become undeniably addicted to me—awake or asleep—_ ** _forever_**.”

 

The doctor emptied the remaining contents of the small bottle of lube, generously coating himself with it. He lined himself up to the boy’s entrance _—_ teasing his hungry, winking hole with the lubricated head of his cock.

 

“When I slide myself inside of you, you’ll awaken immediately from your trance. This time, however, you won’t forget all that we’ve done in your tranced state. No, this time you’ll wake up with _every memory of what you’ve done for me during each and every one of our sessions._ You’ll wake up understanding exactly how your body had been reduced into becoming such a _cock-hungry whore_ over these past few weeks, but you’d be entirely powerless to stop yourself. No matter how much you may want to, how much you try to will yourself to, there is no going against the true purpose of your body and subconscious— serving as your master’s obedient cocksleeve.”

 

“Yes, Master...” Francis nodded, simply excited to finally have the doctor’s thick cock inside of him after so long. He spread himself wide open with both hands, eager to have the cock at his entrance plow into him already. “Master, please... Put it in... I need it...”

 

Cameron laughed. Gripping the boy’s hips, he shoved himself inside the virgin passage all at once. The tight, wet heat around his cock was amazing in his own right, but _nothing_ could ever compare to the feeling of fucking the boy through his new, desperate screams for help.

 

He would never forget the lovely sight of it all. His lovely pet, newly terrified out of its mind—struggling fruitlessly while still speared on his cock, as it reacted with fear, outrage, and shame from the overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure forced upon it. 

 

Reduced to being a mere trapped animal for his own amusement—finally realizing the cage it had willingly cornered itself into once it had been _much_ too late.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy December, everybody. I figured I would not be able to update this story for a long while due to classes, but I didn't anticipate taking an entire 3 months to do so. Organic chemistry is not too difficult, but it certainly takes a lot of time to study for it, which had proven to be impossible when taking other time-intensive STEM classes alongside it. This semester overall had been extremely stressful for me, and writing this chapter little by little was honestly one of my only reprieves from completely losing it. I also wrote an entirely different chapter for this one before scrapping it altogether, so that added to the time it took as well. 
> 
> These next few weeks I will not have any time at all to write the fifth chapter, but after finals I should. The only thing I love more than hypnosis is mindbreak—I looove reading and writing a character's descent into mindbreak, and I am so ready to do that to my poor little Francis.
> 
> All in all, thank you so much for being patient. Seeing so many people like it over all this time has really pushed me to keep going. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I hope you look forward to the last upcoming one!


	5. The Final Session - End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated with "spanking" and "orgasm delay".

Francis couldn’t even hear himself scream at first.

 

The pain that greeted him was unlike any he had ever felt in his life. It was _intense_ ; no amount of foreplay could have ever fully prepared him to take something so large. He felt as if his body was being split in two from the inside. With every thrust, every inch the doctor forced deeper inside him, Francis was stuffed so full of cock that even the mere act of breathing became difficult—it felt as if all the air inside of him had been punched out, never to be replaced as there was simply no room left inside of him for anything else.

 

“Someone, please! Help me!” the boy shouted at the top of his lungs, trying his best despite the evident lack of air left in them. He had to get away from here; someway, somehow, no matter the cost. Knowing what he knew now about these sessions only intensified his desperate efforts—kicking, screaming, doing all that he can to struggle, even if those efforts were more akin to that of a struggling animal than any real threat. Francis was never one for violence, but the thought of what he was made to do—what he was made to _become_ for the doctor—terrified him to his very core, enough for him to persist no matter how pointless it truly seemed.

 

Still, even this fruitless struggle was stopped eventually when one particularly hard shove of the man’s cock was enough to knock the breath out of him, effectively shutting him up and rendering his body useless. Leaving his body pliant and limp—completely defenseless against the brutal, relentless pace of the doctor’s thrusts.

 

“Did you honestly think I’d make it that easy for you, that all you’d have to do is scream? After having gone through so much to obtain you? I know you’re young and naïve, Francis, but don’t make me laugh,” Dr. Jones sniggered, waving his hand as if physically batting away such a ridiculous notion. “You’re nowhere near my first, you know. Remember Lucas? Oh,  _yes_ — him, Connor, Jacob… They’ve all been in your exact shoes at some point. All screamed, all fought… and yet here we are. I’ve still had the pleasure of breaking each and every one of them in this very room, whose walls I’ve had soundproofed long before you even knew how to walk.”

 

Francis balked at the horrifying revelation. _Lucas_. He remembered the older man vividly from what he was made to do to him in one of his sessions. Empty; hollow—a disturbing husk of what used to be a freely thinking, living individual. Clearly reduced to being nothing more than one of the doctor’s sexual playthings. Lucas hadn’t been able to talk or do much of anything without direct commands; Francis recalled that he was even unable to finish without the doctor’s explicit permission, so strong a hold did the man have on every fiber of Lucas’ being. And just now, the doctor had also mentioned more names in addition to his, hadn't he?  _Connor. Jacob_. Had he also broken the both of them like he did Lucas? Just how long had the man been doing this? How many more had this doctor brainwashed and raped for his own sick amusement?

 

_Was he going to suffer the exact same fate now?_

 

The tears that welled up in his eyes after all this time could no longer be held back anymore, and Francis was utterly helpless to stop them from spilling down his face. His life was over now; he was going to be stuck here for the rest of his life as nothing more than a miserable, mindless sex slave like Lucas and who knows how many more. His parents, his landlord, his coworkers—no one was going to know what the hell even happened to him after all of this, even if anyone bothered to look for him in the first place.

 

All of this, just because he had dared to try and find the one cure to his migraines.

 

“Shh-hh... there, there. There’s no need to cry, my pet,” the doctor cooed, gently stroking his head as one would do to soothe an injured animal. “I’m not planning to turn you into another toy, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

“After all, that’s what all of these sessions together were _for_ ; they were designed to have you willingly enjoy everything I’m doing to you and more. I would leave you like this—awake, aware of everything done to you—and _you’re going to willingly beg for it every time_. My perfect, eager, obedient _pet._ ”

 

“W-who... who would beg for something like this...?!” Francis retorted, blinking back tears, “I don’t want this...! Let me go!” To his surprise, his voice wavered while he said those last words, as if somehow his body was less sure of the fact than he was.

 

The doctor seemed to pick up on that too, as he simply chuckled in response.

 

“Francis, my poor boy. So confused, are we? I’m sure it must feel strange to say such lies _when you’re feeling so undeniably good right now.”_ His hand slipped underneath the boy’s stomach, reaching below until it grabbed ahold of his cock. The scared, humiliated whimper from his pet was music to his ears as he thumbed the head of Francis’ cock with slow, meticulous precision—emphasizing how wet he was for him by smearing the boy’s own precum all over his length.

 

“See this right here? You’re as wet as a girl for me.”. His hand carefully works on his pet’s aching hard cock, using the copious amount of precum to his advantage and making Francis squirm and mewl oh-so-helplessly. “You _like_ this, Francis. There’s no use denying it. You were hard and ready to cum having my cock down your throat, and you’re only even more so with my cock shoved deep inside your cunt. Your lips can lie to me all they want, but your body here can’t help but tell the truth— _that you’re an absolute slut for my cock_.”

 

“N... no... please, I’d... I don’t...”

 

Francis barely manages to stutter out some form of denial, in between gasps and wet, helpless moans. It doesn’t make any sense. He was awake now, no longer unconscious or under the doctor’s spell. Why was his words still affecting him like this? Why was his traitorous body reacting like this? Despite the immense pain he had woken up to, his cock hadn’t flagged even once—left just as engorged, aching, and dripping wet around the cockring as before. He couldn’t help himself; his body had become so damn _receptive_ —so helplessly, mind-numbingly sensitive to everything—that every thrust of his hips, every glide of the hand on his cock, drives him closer and closer to shamelessly begging for it.

 

Somehow, focusing on how much he should hate all of this becomes more and more of a challenge as sheer pleasure continues to build inside of him, gradually melting away the pain, hatred, and shame until pure, undeniable pleasure is all that’s left to think of. There’s less and less pain to try to hold onto as his body adjusts to the doctor's girth, and as a result it’s becoming harder to suppress his own growing, desperate need to come. Francis knows his body is long gone at this point, and that it will only be a matter of time before his mind follows suit. The hypnotic suggestions were easier to ignore when he was overwhelmed with so much pain; now it was only getting much harder to even hear himself think past them, now that his body is drowning in the sheer amount pleasure. With each passing moment, Francis can sense his mind inching closer towards giving in to the loud, incessant demands to please and obey.

 

At this point, he’s not even sure how he feels about that anymore.

 

Francis feels the doctor’s hand leave his cock in favor of groping his chest, wet fingertips gently thumbing at his nipples, smearing more precum onto sensitive flesh. Combined with the other overwhelming sensations—the rough, fast pace of his thrusts that sharply contrasted the slow, sensual touches on his chest, the stretch from the massive cock plowing into him, the sheer mental pleasure of being on his knees servicing the doctor—Francis finds himself mindlessly begging before he could even think to stop himself. He regrets it immediately, biting his lips hard and burying his face in his arms in an attempt to hide his shame, but it had been too late. 

 

The doctor had heard him, and he refused to let him live it down.

 

“Just _look_ at you,” Dr. Jones mused, placing a hand on the globe of his ass as he kept up his pace, “My precious little slut, _Francis_ , moaning and begging around my cock like it’s the best thing you’ve ever had. So desperate for me. If anyone were to see us right now, they’d have no doubt that you wanted this just as much as I do.” He drags his hand across the smooth flesh some more, massaging the round cheek before all of a sudden raising his hand and striking him in one swift motion. Spanking the boy, _hard_.

 

“And from the looks of it, they’d be correct. Won’t they, Francis?”

 

Francis keens, nerves alight with a heady mix of pain and pleasure that only served to make his cock twitch helplessly against the ring. It _hurts_. He’s never been spanked by anyone before as a child, but he’s sure he’s not supposed to get off to it like he’s doing now as an adult. The harsh contact leaves a stinging pain on his reddened skin that quickly melts into something warmer, tingly and aching in all the right ways. He’s so preoccupied with gasping for breath from the ordeal, desperately trying to draw oxygen back into his trembling body, that he forgets the doctor had asked him a question in the first place.

 

“Answer.” _Slap._ “My.” _Slap._ “Fucking.” _Slap._ “Question.” _Slap._ “Slut.”

 

_Slap._

 

“Yes…!!” Francis wails at the last hit. His body is jerking erratically, unsure if it should lean into the full impact or squirm away from each blow on his ass, until he was simply left a trembling wreck.

 

“Yes what?” The doctor kneaded the soft, reddened flesh as a subtle warning to his pet. He had made sure his palm landed at the same exact spot each time he spanked him, leaving behind an angry red handprint that would surely be felt for days to come. “Come now, Francis, you have to speak more clearly than that.”

 

“Yes, they’d be... right I… I want it…” the boy managed to gasp out, in between heaving, stuttering gasps of air. The pain left him dizzy, too dizzy to think too deeply about what he was really saying amidst the jumbled thoughts and frazzled nerves. All he knew at that moment was that too much was running around in his head.

 

 _I need to_ _~~fight this, I can’t just~~ _ _surrender._

 

_...Huh? Was that right? I need..._

 

 _... I need_ ~~ _to get away from_ ~~ _him._

 

_Wait, that sounds—_

_I need_ ~~ _to get this damn ring off and_ ~~ _cum._

 _I need_ ~~ _to get him to stop_ ~~ _the punishment._

_I ~~need~~... ~~I~~ need..._

 

_I need..._

 

Something was wrong. Dimly, he could feel slight unease in his gut about... something, though he can neither pinpoint the exact source of it, nor hold on to the feeling for very long. It was fleeting, just as the rest of his thoughts were—making its presence known one second, and gone the next before he could even attempt to make sense of it.

 

He tries to think back to what was done to him in the sessions and finds... nothing of note anymore.

 

Why had he been so frightened before? The more he tries to wrap his head around it, the less he finds to justify his fears. The doctor had kept true to his word, after all—his migraines, after nineteen long, painful years, were finally cured, just as he had promised. Francis may have been turned into a thirsty, cock-loving whore in the process, but there was nothing about that to fear either; it wasn’t like it was anything he didn’t already crave now.

 

_It’s who you are—what you’ve always been deep down—and you simply can’t help yourself as I bring it all out of you._

 

 _Deep down, you were always a good, obedient cocksleeve_.

 

He understands now that this was not at all true—it was these very hypnotic suggestions that made him _feel_ that he had always been this way, when he clearly was not like this before. Francis knows better now, but he can’t seem to comprehend anymore why he should be upset at that. _If_ he should even be upset at that. He loves getting on his knees, gagging for cock and begging to have his belly stuffed full of his favorite drink. He loves being helplessly addicted to master—his body, his cock, his cum. There was nothing frightening about enjoying these things.

 

It doesn’t matter that he never liked these things before—that he had to be manipulated and abused for him to learn to like these things. He loves them now, and that’s all that matters. Getting upset won’t change the fact that he feels nothing short of _amazing_ on his knees, taking his rightful punishment for failing to obey his master quickly enough.

 

All Francis really wants is to fulfill his purpose: serving his master as a warm, wet, obedient hole to fuck. Fulfilling that purpose made him very happy.

 

There was nothing else for him to think about past these two things.

 

“Imagine, Francis...” The doctor leaned close, licking the shell of his ear, “Hordes of people lining up to watch you right now, on your hands and knees taking my cock. Shamelessly milking me with your wet, sloppy cunt as you beg to be stuffed full of your favorite drink.

 

“They’d stand around and stare in awe, all of them, as an innocent young virgin is successfully brainwashed into becoming a cock-hungry whore right before their eyes. Slurping down my cock like your life depended on it. And after a while, they’d no longer be content with just watching... just standing around in the sidelines… No, in the endthey’d join in and use every inch of you. You’d have more cocks than you’d know what to do with—covered head to toe with gobs of thick, hot cum…

 

“Wouldn’t you like that, pet?” The doctor whispered seductively into his ear, “Having so many people bear witness to what a mindless, well-trained slut you’ve become? Filling you up with your favorite thick, creamy milkshake, until you’re simply dripping with it—leaking cum from every hole of yours?”

 

Francis groaned. His balls already tightened at the mention of being placed on display for all to see, eager to cum just from the mere thought of having people watch how quickly he was reduced to becoming his master’s sexual plaything. But to be whored out by his master... that was another thing entirely. Taken by so many people at once, made to choke on a seemingly endless stream of cock and cum…

 

He couldn’t nod fast enough.

 

“Then beg for it _properly_ ,” the older man chuckled, pleased at how thoroughly broken the boy’s mind and body had both become. “Loud and clear for me, please.”

 

“Master, please I want it…” Francis was eagerly thrusting his hips back, slurring his words as his useless tongue struggles to form the words as fast as he wants them to come. “Please, whore me out and use your filthy cum dumpster as you see fit. Nothing makes me happier than being made to obey your every order. I’m nothing but a sloppy cunt to hold your cum and I love it. I’m so hard and wet, just thinking about getting to please master in front of everyone.”

 

It was almost like a knee-jerk reaction. The more he begged, the louder the suggestions pressed on in his mind, and the more pleasure his body felt from obeying them. His muscles were clenching down hard on his master’s cock, as if desperate to milk every drop of cum out of him. Francis himself was already so very close, too; he knew that, once the ring was off, a light breeze would be all it would take for him to finish. He also knew that him coming wasn’t the point, though. Everything of Francis belonged to his master—only he and he alone gets to decide when or if he deserves to be rewarded in such a way.

 

Everything he does now, Francis does only for the sake of obeying and pleasing his master.

 

“Please master, _please_ fuck me stupid and—!!”

 

The boy’s begging was cut short by a loud strangled moan.

 

Just now, Francis felt the doctor hit something strange inside of him—a sensation so extreme it made his entire body jolt with sudden pleasure, the likes of which he’s never thought possible. His body was trembling _hard_ , almost as if all of his nerves were shot all at once, and Francis could swear he was able to see stars at the edge of his vision. Gasping shallowly, the boy slowly turned his head towards his master.

 

“What… W-what was...”

 

“This?” The older man gripped the boy’s hips tighter and thrusted into him hard, angling himself in such a way to hit the same exact spot as before. Francis screwed his eyes shut as he threw his head back, mouth agape and moaning deliriously at the extreme pleasure he was subjected to yet again.

 

“This is your _sweet spot_ , my pet. Every slut has one like this inside of them. _It’s how you’ll come with only my cock inside of you_ , over and over and over again until I milk you dry completely.”

 

From then on, Dr. Jones would make sure to only hit his “sweet spot” with every thrust of his cock. It was torture—pure, sweet torture. The boy’s red, engorged cock would twitch against the cockring on him, in time to each of the doctor’s thrusts, and leaking more with each assault on his prostate until the carpet underneath him was just as soaked as his stomach and thighs. Between the toe-curling pleasure of having this "sweet spot" constantly stimulated, and the incessant barrage of hypnotic suggestions, Francis had no energy left to think of anything else anymore. His brain felt the same way as the rest of the bones in his body—a liquified, unrecognizable mess that had been whipped thoroughly into submission. His mouth was left agape with a constant stream of moans and incoherent pleas for more, harder, faster, _fuck_ —a reflection of the only thoughts he had left in his broken mind.

 

This is what his life will always be like from now on.

 

Even though he was only beginning to accept that fact now, it felt more to Francis like he was finally coming home by realizing it. This was where he always belonged—on his hands and knees, getting railed by his master and guzzling down his delicious come after begging oh-so-prettily for it. And by god, does he want it now. He’s nothing if not his master’s thirsty, obedient cocksleeve—a mere object to warm his cock and a receptacle to take his cum. Francis could not be grateful enough for his master’s patience in allowing him to finally realize his purpose.

 

“Looks like someone finally understands now,” the doctor tuts, taking his pet’s length in hand and stroking it lovingly.

 

“I’m very proud of you, my pet. You’ve done so well for me, taking my cock for the first time and learning your place as quickly as you did. You’ve even gotten me close, Francis; in amoment, I’m about to reward you by filling you up with your favorite drink.” He tugs at the ring on his pet’s cock, sliding it around teasingly as if he intended to take it off, only to slide it back in place before Francis can come. Francis whines, squirming helplessly underneath him in response.

 

“How does that sound? Do you want me to take this ring off as an extra reward? Does my pet want to come on my cock?”

 

Francis nodded fervently.

 

“Beg nicely for master, then.”

 

“Please master... I wantt... t’come...” the boy managed to stumble out. It was difficult to rack his brain for words when all he could stand to focus on was how good everything felt. Even if he was denied the permission to come, just being allowed the privilege of taking his master’s cum inside of him was enough to send the boy reeling with pleasure.

 

Still, Francis had to be a good pet; his master had asked him to beg, and he had no other choice but to obey and do so.

 

“Please... let... me come... mas... ter...”

 

Dr. Jones was more than happy to watch the lovely sight laid out before him: the innocent-virgin-turned-cumslut, too addled by the taste of cock to even speak properly. Just begging to be used and abused to no end. The doctor couldn’t help but think back to their first very first meeting—the shy, respectable young man that first stepped foot into his office only weeks ago. Looking at the slut in front of him now, no one would dare suggest that they were one and the same. Chuckling, he thumbed the slit of the boy’s cock, spreading around the slick precum on it and eliciting an eager whine from his pet.

 

“In a minute, I’ll take this cock ring off of you and have you come with me at the same time. When I do, _there will not be a shred of doubt left in your mind of what your purpose is, and who you belong to_. You’re mine, Francis—and after this, you’ll never be able to forget it. You _will_ be helplessly addicted to me awake as you are asleep, and you are to always remain that way— _forever_.”

 

The doctor thrusted inside of Francis a few more times before finally sliding the tight ring off. Francis came with a shout, almost immediately after the ring was removed. The clench of his muscles as he came was enough to tip the doctor off the edge, and it was not long after that he felt thick, hot cum being pumped inside of him.

 

Francis would have came a second time just from that, if he could.

 

Shivering, the boy finally collapsed on the carpeted floor, clearly sated after doing so well to please his master. He could feel the sole of a shoe being pressed onto his ass, followed by a trickle of cum that slowly ran down his thighs and onto the carpet.

 

“Clean up the mess, pet,” the doctor gently nudged the boy’s thigh with the tip of his shoe. “I don’t want you wasting a single drop of your reward now, Francis.”

 

Without skipping a beat, Francis rose back up on his hands and knees. He stuck out his tongue and began obediently lapping up the thick gobs of cum that had spilled onto the carpet, and sucking down his favorite drink as if he had been starved of it all his life. When he was finished, he licked his lips and scampered over to his master’s side, awaiting further commands to obey.

 

“And what do we say?”

 

Francis bowed his head all the way down, placing a kiss on the smooth, soft leather of his master’s shoe.

 

“Thank you for everything, master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it, folks. Again, I apologize for taking nearly two months to roll out an update; I could make excuses with holidays, family, and classes starting again, but I think it's just safe to say I write at a snail's pace. 
> 
> Thank you for all of the support on this fic. This work is finished, but I am thinking of either creating another work elaborating more on the doctor's other toys (particularly Jacob, his first acquisition), or just writing other unrelated kinky hypnosis works. It's safe to say that neither of these things will be finished anytime soon, but please let me know down below and be on the lookout for them if you are interested. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading!


End file.
